


I've been falling (not for 30 minutes, but still)

by hifftn



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Bad Flirting, F/M, stupid accident, theater actor AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 09:24:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19148179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hifftn/pseuds/hifftn
Summary: While out shopping I run into this cute guy - literally. After getting to know him better I'm not even mad about the way we met anymore - as long as it brings us together,





	I've been falling (not for 30 minutes, but still)

**Author's Note:**

> Some clumsy flirting and some sweet smut at the end.

Sport is good for the health, people say. If you do sport you meet new people, they say. It’s definitely better than sitting on your bum all day. Helps you to relax. To get the head free.  
That’s nice, but after jogging through the park for 20 minutes the rain started and now I’m drenched, I can barely see anything and my nose is running. At least one of us, because I’m only trudging by now, heading home to face the laughter of my roommates, who had of course told me before that the weather would be changing, yada yada yada. And to bring some tomatoes and cheese on my way back. So I have to go to the store in all my dripping glory. At least my leggings are black, but my orange shirt is halfway see through. Not that anyone will notice, I still have a completely soaked jacket over my shirt, unfortunately not waterproof. But the pockets hold my keys and some hopefully still acceptable money bills as well as my phone. The basics.  
I feel bad for the puddle I leave on the floor in front of the check-out but with my groceries in a paper bag - I already doubt this decision, the rain is still not letting up - I hurry back outside, don’t even bother covering my hair. Home, just home.  
I turn around a corner, head low and eyes on the pavement. A mistake.  
The impact startles me, knocks me back and on my butt. I skid backwards, dull and sharp pain jolts through my behind, my left hip and thigh.  
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you. Are you okay? Can you stand?”  
I look up, blink against tears and raindrops to see a worried, but extremely handsome face. Blue eyes, wide with concern. Definitely better dressed for this weather than I am, with a light coat and an umbrella that got knocked from his hand when I ran into him.  
“Yeah… I’m okay, I think.” I take his outstretched hand, let him pull me to my feet. My ankles feel fine, so that’s a plus. But my paper bag is lying in a puddle, now more pappmache than paper.  
“Are you sure? That was quite a fall you took.”  
Yeah, right. I can still feel it, my left side is burning from my knee up to my hip. I think my elbow took some damage, too. But I can still move.  
“Well, I hope it looked spectacular at least.” I bend down and pick up his umbrella, hand it over before he gets to the level of soakiness that I have already surpassed.  
“To be honest, I wasn’t paying attention where I was walking, I was just on the phone…”  
His eyes widen again, he looks around. “My phone… I must have dropped it.”  
I help him search, it’s kinda my fault after all. We spot it under a parked car next to us, of course out of reach.  
“Wait, let me get that for you.” I’m already dirty and wet, so I can just as well crawl under a parked car to get someone’s fancy phone. No big deal.  
“No, I really can’t ask that of you,” he objects, because of course he does, looking like a perfect gentleman in his tight dress pants and those polished shoes. The rain has already done some damage, but in general he looks good. Really good, now that I take a closer look.  
“You haven’t asked, I offered.” It’s cute how he holds the umbrella over me, as if that would help. But I’m already halfway under the car. I won’t lie, it’s not pleasant, not at all. At least his phone screen isn’t cracked but I guess all the water isn’t exactly helping. Somehow I wiggle out from under the car again; the leggins and jacket are read for the trash now. And I for a hot bath.  
“Here you are, not sure if it’s still working, though.” I hand him his phone, want to wipe my forehead but remember how dirty my sleeves must be.  
“Thank you very much. I feel bad for this whole mess.”  
He reaches inside of his jacket pocket, offers me an honest-to-god handkerchief. Yeah, definitely a gentleman. No clue what he’s doing here, though, in this neighborhood with mostly students and simple folks.  
“Nah, no big deal. My day is crap anyway.” Either his phone or his case is magic, because as soon as he swipes over the screen it lights up. Wow.  
“At least let me pay the cleaning of your clothes. Are you comfortable with giving me your number?”  
Actually I’m not. No clue who this guy is, although he looks like a million dollar.  
“Don’t worry about that, I don’t think I will get it cleaned. I’ll just throw it out.”  
“Then let me pay for new clothes.”  
Yeah, I’ve read some very strange stories that started like this, so that’s a no.  
“You really don’t have to. It was also my fault, I didn’t pay attention either. As long as no one got hurt…” I shrug, glad he isn’t threaten to sue me over his momentarily lost phone or something. I pick up the remains of my paper bag, at least the cheese and tomatoes are intact in their separate wrappings. A tomato or two are mushed a bit, but I can just throw them out later.  
“You are not comfortable with giving me your number, I presume.” Far from acting insulted he chuckles and nods, reaches into his jacket once more and brings out a piece of paper and a fountain pen. Juggling his umbrella, the pen and the paper is impossible so I hold the umbrella for him while he writes down a number.  
“Here, this is my number. Please, let me cover the costs of either cleaning or replacing your clothes.”  
He pushes the paper in my hand, I give him the umbrella back and after some shuffling we end up with our belongings in the right hands, the disintegrating paper bag in my arms, pressed against my chest.  
“Yeah, I will think about it. Okay, I’m off now. Take care of yourself, will you?” I hurry off, at least as good as I can. My left side burns and complains at every step; I can’t wait to get home and out of my wet clothes. 

The stairs up to the 3rd floor are killing me, my clothes feel as if they’re weighing a ton. Stupid water. I fight my way into the kitchen, dump the mess of paper mush and groceries on the table and trudge into the bathroom. Just out of the clothes and into the shower, three minutes of warm water later I feel like a human again although just barely. Once the numbness and the chill are gone I can feel something else and the moment I lather up some bodywash and rub it into my skin I yelp. Yep, my left side is pretty banged up. A long abrasion from my knee up to my hip, some smaller on the side and my arm, some bruises here and there. I keep my shower short, much to my dismay, and try to dry off very, very gently. Airdrying sounds good just now. Wrapped up in a towel I pick up my ruined clothes from the floor. Might as well wash them, maybe the muck gets out after all. Dutifully I check the pockets, don't want to ruin any of my other clothes in the laundry.  
And there, in my left jacket pocket, is the note with the gentleman's phone number. And his expensive looking fountain pen.  
"Shit."  
Upon closer inspection I stumble across an engraving. No way I can simply ignore this now. I decide to first get dressed and afterwards give him a call to return his pen.

What was planned as a short call, just long enough to inform him over the whereabouts of his pen and hash out how to return it, turns into a conversation that last over an hour. Tom, that's his name, is funny, polite and interesting. He's also a great listener and doesn't relent until I agree to have dinner with him as thank you for getting his phone and returning his pen. Not in a creepy way, he’s totally fine with meeting in a restaurant because I’m not comfortable with giving him my address.  
He promises to send me the name of a restaurant and a time when we will meet and when I hang up there’s this light fluttering in my stomach - and a tingle even further down. I gotta admit, his voice is giving me ideas. 

 

“Where are you going?”  
I try to sneak out to my date - no, not date, I’m just returning the pen - but of course my roommates catch me. They are like harpies when it comes to gossip or messing with me, but always in good fun. And I can give just as good.  
“Out.” I grab my purse and hobble over to the door. Damn this stupid fall in the rain, my whole left side is hurting like hell.  
“Dressed like this? I don’t think so.” Jazz, a blonde European exchange student, crosses her arms in front of her and smirks at me.  
“Yeah. I haven’t seen you in a dress in forever,” Miho, a half Japanese, half French language teacher, pipes up.  
“Can’t wear pants right now. I kinda got injured yesterday,” I grumble but they are at my side a second later.  
“Is it bad? Should we get you a bandage?”  
I sigh and lift my skirt a bit, show them my thigh and the bandages going from my knee up to my hip.  
“Holy shit, what happened? Razor burn?”  
I swat at Miho’s arms, she dances back and grins widely.  
“No, you badger! I fell, okay? Slid over the pavement, left part of my skin there. Met a cute guy and now I’m out to see him again.”  
“Ohhhhhhhhhh!” Jazz cooes, laughs when I roll my eyes. “Will we meet him for breakfast?”  
“Get a life, you two! I’m off now.” Craziest roommates ever, but I have to admit, they are fun.

Somehow I make it downstairs without falling again, Tom’s pen safely tucked into my purse.  
He’s already waiting for me when I get there, the restaurant classy but not overly fancy. A small place, not too many tables.  
A hostess greets me but Tom comes to lead me to the table, helps me with my jacket and chair - the whole shebang.  
“You are looking really pretty.” He smiles at me, my heart skips a beat. Dammit.  
“It isn’t exactly hard to look better than last time you saw me. Drenched and covered in mud.”  
“And yet you looked beautiful even like that.”  
Speechless at his both bold and smooth flirting I swallow once, no snarky comment at hand when I use it the most. So I settle for a meek ‘thanks’ and bury my nose in the menu. Compliments are hard.  
“Do you want an aperitif?”  
With a barely suppressed grin he looks at me but I only wave my hand.  
“No, thanks. I’m not keen on alcohol. Water is fine.”  
“Is it okay if I get a glass of wine, though? And how about a non-alcoholic cocktail instead of water?”  
It’s always a good idea to decline alcohol at a first date, if only to see how the guy reacts. And to be honest, I like his suggestion so I agree.  
The food is mostly European, French I think. I order some goat cheese and salad for starters, lemon pepper chicken for the main course. He chooses scallops and coq au vin.  
“I’m relieved that you order actual food,” he says after the waiter has left again.  
“What else should I order?”  
“I don’t know. I heard stories about women nibbling at some salad and announcing loudly they are stuffed. I actually like to see someone enjoy their food.”  
I raise my eyebrow at him. “‘You heard’? Or did you have dinner with a ton of girls before after running into them in the rain?”  
His chuckle is melodious and infectious.  
“I can honestly say that I never had dinner with a beautiful woman after running into her in the rain before.”  
Not exactly how I worded it, but okay. No, scratch that. Even better than my version. The waiter brings our drinks, a fruity virgin cocktail for me and a glass of red wine for him.  
“So, what do you do when you’re not taking strange women out to dinner?”  
He seems completely relaxed and at ease, I’m still not completely sure if this is a date or if he maybe just wanted some company for dinner.  
“Actually I’m an actor. Theater mostly.”  
Okay, that is really cool.  
“Theater? Must be hard. It’s not easy getting good roles and you have to actually nail it every single time. No retakes or bloopers.” I play with the straw of my cocktail, stab at an ice cube.  
“You sound as if you know what you are talking about.”  
“Nah, just high school drama club. Nothing serious.”  
“But you enjoy theater?”  
Can’t deny that so I nod.  
“Would you like to come and see my performance tomorrow night?”  
We haven’t even had our starters and he basically says he wants to see me again? Fine with me.  
“Depends. What are you playing?”  
He names the play and I have to admit, I never heard of it before so he gives me a quick summary.  
“Okay, but it’s not 100% drama, is it? It has some light moments?”  
“It is well balanced, but also very real. It’s not a sugar coated Disney version.” The tiny tilt of his head is utterly adorable.  
“So you won’t just break out into song?” I tease him, grin when he shakes his head with a bright smile.  
“No, I’m afraid that’s out of question.”  
I fake a pout. “Then why should I even watch it if no one is singing? Is that even art?”  
He still chuckles when the waiter comes with our starters.  
The food is incredible. We eat and chat, he tells me about himself, his hobbies and this offer to play in a movie.  
I tell him about my family, my crazy roommates, my plans for my life. It’s easy talking to him and when the waiter clears the plates of our main course away I wish I had ordered a dessert, too, just so we can stay a bit longer. He seems to read my mind, orders a glass of water for himself, asks me if I'd like another drink, too. Of course I do, it buys me at least another 30 minutes with him.  
One drink turns into a couple and when the place closes so we have to leave I'm still not ready. I even consider inviting him to my place, but we wouldn't be alone and I don't want Miho and Jazz to scare him away.  
"It has been an incredibly pleasant dinner," he says outside on the street while I'm still clueless about my next steps.  
"Yeah, I can't even remember when I last had that much fun without getting drunk." Or naked.  
“Can I get you a cab? It’s late and I don’t want you to take the train on your own. A cab could get you home and I don’t even have to know where exactly that is.”  
Dammit, he’s considerate. And right, it’s really late and I don’t want to take the train either.  
“Or you we could share a cab. You can drop me off, maybe not exactly in front of my door, but close enough for me to be safe.” And for him to get an idea where I live. I’m not that suspicious of him anymore.  
“Of course, if you are fine with it I’d love to bring you home. Or at least close enough so you can make it safely back.”  
His smile is bright even in the dim light. He hails a cab, opens the door for me and slides in after me. I give the driver the address of a block right around the corner and off we go.  
“Is it at least a bit in your direction?” It occurs to me that he might live at the opposite side of town.  
“It’s not much of a detour, don’t worry. Besides, this way I can be with you some longer so I don’t mind at all.”  
He takes my hand, just sits there in the backseat with me, fingers laced together. Hopefully he can’t feel my pulse racing. Oh god, is my palm sweaty? Hard to tell with the warmth of his hand on mine.  
“You are quite a smooth talker, aren’t you?” Oh yes, masking how flustered I am by some snarky comments is totally my thing.  
“Taking is part of my job, my dear. But I admit, without a script it’s not that easy. For example, I’m just pondering what to say so I can see you again soon.”  
The lights from the street lamps and neon signs fly by, cast shadows and patterns on his face but his eyes - he’s staring right at me, sincere and hopeful. No trace of joking there.  
“I - I’m seeing you tomorrow night, am I not? I mean, you invited me to your play.”  
“That’s not the same. I want to see you, not that you only see me. After the play, when I’m back to being myself again, would you take a drink with me? It can of course be something non-alcoholic.”  
We are almost at my stop, I better make up my mind now.  
“I - yeah, that - that sounds great. I’ll just wait for you, okay?”  
And it’s back, his bright smile, and it brings the butterflies to my stomach. He lifts our clasped hands, kisses the back of mine and I friggin’ melt. From a hand kiss!  
“I’m looking forward to it,” he assures me when the cab stops. Again he opens the door for me, helps me out of the car - and I’m grateful because my left leg still is feeling tender and sore and my bum aches a bit.  
I wonder if I should just go in for a kiss, but here, next to a waiting cab, with the driver watching us… that’s not the ideal location. So I just smile, say good night and peck his cheek. He kissed my hand, I kiss his cheek. Should be around the same level, right?  
The butterflies carry me up the three flights of stairs easily tonight.

“What do you mean, he only got you a ticket? Why didn’t you ask if you can bring some friends?” Jazz pouts the next night when I get ready to go to the theater.  
“And then what? You go and hang out with us? Watch us making googly eyes all the time?” I scoff, take the lipstick she offers me.  
“Is that what you do?” Miho asks. “Just staring at each other? Boooooring…”  
“Hey, it was just our first date-” yes, I consider it a date by now - “so that’s more than enough.”  
“Wait, what? Not even a kiss goodbye?” Jazz’s eyes widen as if she just saw an alien.  
“Only on the cheek. And he kissed my hand. Stupid gentleman.”  
“So you want him to kiss you properly?” Miho, sharp as ever, grins at me. “Then just go for it. No kissing on the first date, no sex before the third - that’s stupid. Just do what you feel good with.”  
“Don’t worry, I will. So don’t wait up for me, I have no idea when I’ll be back.” On a rush on bravado I sweep towards the door, grab my jacket and grin when I hear their laughter. Crazy chicks, but my friends.  
The theater is packed. I have a great seat, with perfect view on the stage. The play is fantastic, I want to laugh, cry, scream all the time. Very engaging. I’m still emotional when the curtain falls, the actors come back out for another round of deafening applause and vanish backstage to get rid of their costumes and makeup. I just stay in my seat until someone tells me I have to leave now. In the foyer I only wait for another ten minutes or so before Tom jogs in, looking completely different to his stage persona now. He even wears glasses.  
“Sorry, I hurried but the director wanted to talk to me about that one scene,” he apologizes, breathless but smiling.  
“That’s fine, it wasn’t that long. And congrats, the play was amazing and you were incredible. I wanted to scream at you so many times.”  
He greets me with a quick hug and a breathed kiss on my cheek.  
“I’m glad you liked it. It’s one of my favorite roles so far.” With his hand in the small of my back he leads me towards the exit. “There is this bar a few of us go to after a performance sometimes but I would like to go somewhere a bit more private if you don’t mind.”  
“I don’t mind at all. My roommates tried to tag along, too, and I had to tell them off.” This is some kind of date after all.  
“Excellent. In that case I know the perfect place. Or do you have a different suggestion?”  
I don’t, so he takes me to this small bar with live music, three musicians playing unobtrusive jazz. I’m bolder today, order a glass of wine.  
“You are looking stunning again tonight,” he mentions after helping with my chair. I put some extra effort into my outfit after all, so I’m pleased he likes it.  
We talk about the play and his performance, I can’t stop gushing once I started until he’s all flustered for a change.  
When closing time comes along we leave. I’m just a tiny bit tipsy and gladly take his offer to walk a bit outside to sober up. He takes my hand as if it’s the most natural thing and maybe it is, at least it feels perfect to me. We stroll through the streets, meet only handful of people on our way.  
“So, are you going to invite me to your place next?” I ask, grin when he acts shocked.  
"Should I worry about my virtue?"  
"Maybe." I bite my bottom lip to keep my grin from widening further; it almost goes once around my face already.  
"If you feel comfortable with the idea, certainly. But not if you think I expect this now, because I don't."  
"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't okay with it," I point out and he nods slowly.  
"In that case, would you like to accompany me back home? Maybe for another drink, or just because I don't want to part ways here."  
"Sounds good."  
So Tom hails another cab, opens the door for me and gives the driver his address after he joined me on the backseat. The déjà vu is strong but this time I take his hand, smile when his thumb keeps stroking my knuckles.  
I usually don't take men home or let them take me home that quickly, but he makes me feel so at ease, it's hard to not give into the temptation. Besides, who's going to judge me? Miho and Jazz?  
When we arrive I’m restless, nervous, excited - all at once. And we still haven’t done anything more than holding hands. Crazy.  
He keeps acting like a gentleman, helps me out of the car, opens the door for me until we reach his apartment.  
Inside it’s spacious and clean. Well, mostly. Some books are lying around, a sweater hangs over the backrest of an armchair. A teacup on the coffee table, an empty bottle on next to the couch.  
“You didn’t expect to get lucky tonight, huh?”  
He closes the door behind us, frowns lightly. “Get lucky? No, I didn’t. And just to make it clear, you can walk out here at any point. Although I would prefer if you stayed.”  
I raise a hand, brush my fingertips over the crease between his eyebrows.  
“Make me stay, then.” My voice sounds strange, breathy and hoarse. But not for long. His lips are warm and soft, he cradles my face in his hands, makes my head spin and my heart race.  
Knees? What are knees? No clue, I only have legs of jello at this point. I wrap my arms around his neck, pull our bodies closer together.  
This is so good. Probably the best first kiss ever. I tilt my head, part my lips for him and there’s this sound coming from his throat, a groan so deep it rumbles through his body and mine, too.  
His tongue nudges mine, careful at first but when I tease him he deepens the kiss, makes me gasp.  
When we part again he presses his forehead against mine. We share the same breath, both panting.  
“That was - very convincing,” I mumble. If everything is like this kiss with him… yeah, I’ll stay.  
I yelp when his hands drop to my hips, pulling me closer. Not the good kind of yelp. Not a girly, giggly sound of surprise. It’s a shriek of pain, actually. His fingers found my sore hip and I flinch so he immediately lets go of me, concern in his eyes.  
“Did I - was that wrong?”  
“No! Gosh, that was - so not wrong. Just… I’m a bit bruised.” I grab the edge of my skirt, slowly lift it just enough so he can see the red abrasions and dark spots of the bruises. They have healed nicely so far, but are still way from being fine. It has only been two days after all.  
“Oh Lord, what - wait. Is that from our encounter in the rain?” His fingers twitch into my direction but he stops before he can touch me.  
“Yeah, I hit the pavement a bit too hard that day. Only noticed when I got home.”  
He leans over to take a closer look, brow furrowed again.  
“How far up does it go?”  
“All the way. Got some on my arm, too. But it’s fine, it’s already healing. Don’t worry about it.”  
Dammit, this is such a turn off.  
“Listen, it might look bad it’s really no-” I can’t even finish before he drops to his knees, fingertips softly tracing from my ankle up to my knee. Staying away from the bruises just yet, but sending waves of goosebumps all over my skin.  
“What are you doing?” I ask, breathless and wide-eyed.  
“I will kiss it better - if I may.” The way he looks up at me, his blonde curls slightly messed up - did I just run my hands through them? Yeah, I guess I did - his eyes dark, the light touch of his fingers on my calf… there’s no way I can refuse.  
“Uh, okay?” My heart is going to explode.  
His hand slips up higher, under the hem of my skirt, making my breath hitch in my throat. Slowly, inch for inch, he pushes the fabric up. Just shy under my bum he stops, leans in and presses the gentlest kiss on the side above my knee. From there his lips travel up my thigh, further up until he reaches the hem of my panties, his face partly hidden under my skirt from my gaze. He cups the good side of my bum with his hand, squeezes lightly.  
“Without wanting to appear pushy, but I would like to relocate this to a more comfortable place,” he murmurs against my skin.  
“Be pushy, I’m fine with that. And yes to a different location. Couch or bed?” Not that I care, I would drop my panties right here and now for him, but the slight pull in my leg reminds me to be careful.  
“Whatever suits you more.” Sweet, he’s giving me a choice.  
“Okay, let me be bold here and say bed. Just because I think your sheets will be smoother than the cushions of your couch and my skin really needs soft and tender care now.” Yes, I’m going to use the bruises as excuse for as long as it works and gets us into a more horizontal position.  
"Hm, soft and tender care you say? I think I can provide just that." A last kiss and he gets up again, takes my hand to lead me to the bedroom.  
More books in here, some drawers and a tempting looking bed right there. I brush my fingertips over the covers, tilt my head as if I'm contemplating something.  
"I guess that will work," I finally announce, watch the smile light up his face again.  
“Well, what do you have in mind? Should I continue what I started earlier?” His hands lightly rest on my hips, trace a line up my sides. I kiss him, slowly unbutton his shirt, pull it out of is pants.  
“Sounds good, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable while I’m getting pampered. That shirt looks awfully constrictive.” I smile against his lips, inwardly rejoice at his sharp intake of breath when my palms slide up his chest under the fabric.  
“Yes, that’s - very constrictive indeed,” he hisses, eyes closed. I push the shirt off him, it’s a bit tricky at the cuffs but I manage. He’s not that buff, but toned. A bit of chest hair, some freckles dusted all over his shoulders. I can’t help it, I run my hands over his skin, leave kisses here and there, nibble a bit at his shoulder.  
“Wasn’t I supposed to take care of you, not the other way around?” Tom presses out but I shush him.  
“Hey, this is totally helping to distract me from my suffering.”  
His chest rumbles with his laughter, he shakes his head. “I can’t win against you, can I?”  
I slowly turn towards the bed, sit down on the edge.  
“Is this a competition? It’s not about winning anyway but if it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure you’re winning.”  
I’m in the perfect position to unbuckle his belt and he’s not complaining, instead he watches me while biting his bottom lip. The button and zipper are next, I tug his pants down but my bravado leaves me before I can actually strip him naked.  
I scoot backwards, sit in the middle of the bed, propped up on my arms behind me.  
“Your turn now.”  
He kicks off his pants, takes off his socks - an award-worthy spectacle making me giggle - and crawls towards me.  
Holy shit, there’s nothing saying ‘soft and tender’ in his gaze. He’s like a feline predator, ready to leap. And I’m his willing prey, luring and teasing him at the same time. I scoot back some more, laugh when he grabs my ankle and pulls me down, my back on the mattress now.  
“This,” he says and tugs at the hem of my skirt a bit, “is in my way.”  
“Feel free to get rid of it,” I invite him, hold my breath as his hands slip up my legs to the waistband of the skirt. Wearing something with elastic band instead of a skirt with a zipper was a great idea. I just have to lift my hips a bit so he can pull it off me. Wearing nice underwear was also a brilliant choice. Not sure if he actually appreciates it, but I feel better in sexy lace than in washed-out cotton panties.  
With the skirt gone now he slides his hands up my legs, careful on the bruised side.  
“Anything I should know? Are there spots I should better not touch at all?” His thumbs draw circles on my skin as he watches me intently.  
“Not really. I will let you know if I don’t like anything and I hope you do the same, too.” But good that he asked.  
“Is it okay if I keep undressing you now?”  
I take the hand he offers me and let him pull me up into a sitting position. My shirt is the next piece of clothing he’s taking off me and by now my heart is hammering in my chest. The tingling in my panties is making me impatient but at the same time I want to savor every second of this. The slow exploration, the anticipation is the best part of any first time with someone new after all. The nerves, on the other hand, are the worst. Are my boobs okay? My belly? My legs are banged up anyway, at least the left one so no need to worry about that. But when I undressed him I liked what I saw and I want him to like me, too.  
Judging from the way his eyes light up and his fingertips dance over my skin he’s at least not turned off by the sight, so that’s a win.  
“I feel bad for having a part in damaging a body like yours,” he says, pushes me down again only to kiss me. His weight on top of me is heavenly, although he kinda puts pressure on my bruised hip. I wiggle beneath him to get comfortable and he groans. Oh, I must have done something good by accident so I do it again, grin when he rests his forehead against my shoulder.  
“If you keep that up I can’t promise the ‘soft and tender’ part,” he growls, nips at my skin.  
“You only have to be careful with my leg. The rest can handle some - let’s call it enthusiasm.”  
I pull him into another kiss and giggle when his lips leave mine only to travel down my neck.  
“Are you, by any chance, ticklish?” Again he assaults one of my sensitive spots and I flail a bit, laugh until it’s hard to breathe.  
“I want to find out every spot that makes you laugh, and even more so the spots that make you moan and cry out,” he whispers and I swallow.  
“That - yeah. Go for it.”  
So he does. My bra is no match for his nimble fingers and he kisses, strokes and rubs every inch of me until he reaches my panties. His fingers curl into the flimsy fabric, he tugs carefully, raises an eyebrow at me.  
With my nodded approval he pulls them off me, leaves me bare and - yep, now my nerves flare up with force. What am I about to do? This is only our second date and I barely know him at all!  
But dammit, I really, really want him. Want this.  
Before I can panic he’s back at my side now, kisses me, whispers how beautiful I am and how much he wants me.  
His caresses help me to calm down again, so when he slips a hand between my thighs I only whine in need, not in uncertainty.  
I cling to him while he takes me higher and higher, draws desire and pleasure to my very core. He muffles my moans with more kisses, pants against my lips.  
“Fuck… I - don’t stop…”  
I blabber incoherent pleas and curses, the tension so high I tremble under his touch. He slips a finger into me, his thumb still circles my needy clit.  
“Yeah… just like - holy!” He adds a second finger and growls, pressed so close against my side - the good one - that I can feel his heartbeat, every breath he takes. And of course his own arousal, his hardness against my hip.  
I would feel bad for him but I can’t, too lost in my own pleasure. I dig my fingers into his back, need an anchor while I soar high. My pleasure crests, pulls me under, my hips move against his hand on their own. Not sure if I make a sound or not, everything is a delicious blur and once I come back down again I’m boneless and floating on a post-orgasmic endorphin cloud. Tom holds me, gently strokes my arm until I sigh loudly, turn to kiss him again.  
“You really are a gentleman, huh? Ladies first and stuff.”  
“I even think ladies should also be second. After that I gladly follow.” He’s a bit smug about it so I don’t mind bursting his bubble.  
“In that case you will have to wait a bit, I can’t come a second time right away. I need a bit of rest before you can touch me there again.” I stretch lazily, turn back to face him with a grin. “That doesn’t mean we can’t do anything else…” My fingers wander up his thigh for a change, I press my palm against his hardness and he tilts his head back, eyes closed.  
“And what… are you thinking of…?”  
“I want you-” I breathe against his ear, “inside of me.”  
He groans at my words, an almost pained expression flashes over his face.  
“Are you - certain?”  
“Mhm…” I yelp when he flips me on my back, his kiss hungry and demanding.  
“Someone’s impatient, huh?” I tease him, squirm when he attacks my neck with nips and kisses again.  
“Can you blame me? You’re so hot and smart and sexy - I could barely focus on my lines tonight, knowing you’re in the audience.”  
Okay, that’s it.  
“Get rid of your boxers already and I really hope you got condoms around or I’m going to throw a tantrum.”  
He laughs, drops a kiss on my lips and scrambles off the bed. His boxers join the rest of our clothes on the floor and - yeah, I can work with that. And I will LOVE it.  
With a condom in his hand he comes back, snuggles close to me, completely naked now.  
“Should I?”  
He hands me the condom and I use the chance to not only ogle him, but run my hands all over his chest, his thighs and last but not least, his cock. Once the condom is in place I gently squeeze his balls, trail my fingertips from the base to the tip.  
“I’m ready when you are,” I let him know and plop back down, open my arms and make grabby hands.  
“I’m not only ready, I’m almost done already.”  
It takes a bit of shuffling before he’s on top of me without putting any weight on my bruised side. Another deep kiss and he positions himself, hovers above me.  
“Yes?”  
“God, yes, please,” I affirm and grab his bum with both hands. That’s all the encouragement he needs to finally sink into me, making me gasp.  
From there it’s a constant push and pull. I bite his shoulder and neck, hold onto him, tilt my hips to find the perfect angle.  
Having sex with someone new always means finding out what you like, what they like and what works for both of you. This here works great for me and judging by his moans and grunts he likes it, too.  
I’m losing myself in this, in his kisses and touches, in the way he moves, his blissful expression. When his thrusts become erratic, faster and with more force, I know he’s close.  
“Don’t hold back now,” I urge him on. Despite what I said earlier I do enjoy this very much. I can’t come again, even less without any additional stimulation, but he has been holding back for a while now and I really, really want to see him lose control.  
He pants, buries his face in the crook of my neck. His hips slam against mine over and over until he tenses, grinds against me with a groan.  
We are both sweaty, breathing heavily, too tired to move. He manages to roll off me after another kiss - I could get used to the whole kissing - and takes care of the condom while I just lie there and cool off.  
“Do you want something to drink? Water maybe?”  
“Yeah, thanks.” Should I get up and get dressed? Or stay here for the night? Should have asked him before I jumped him, now it’s a bit embarrassing.  
“Here you are.” He hands me a glass of water and I sit up, smile at him. After a few sips I feel much better.  
“You are staying, aren’t you?” Tom sits back down, strokes my back with his fingertips.  
“If you want me to, yeah.” I hand him back the glass and he set it down on the nightstand.  
We snuggle some more, talk until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.  
When we first met I fell on my butt - now I’m falling in love. This time hopefully without the bruises.


End file.
